Page 47 of Free to Fall

Still, I find myself pulling up her photo in my office later and asking her image, “Who was he?”

Unfortunately, much as I had no answers all afternoon, I still don’t have one by the time I drag myself to sleep.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Part of my “nanny” responsibilities involve transporting Bailey to and from any necessary doctor and PT appointments when Liam can’t make it. I give him credit. According to him, there are a few things he misses. Armed with that knowledge, Liam insisted I drive the minivan his former nanny used. After adding me to his insurance, he handed over the keys at the end of the first week. Monday morning, I decided what was the use of driving to his house in my car when we live just a few streets from one another?

I call my father and ask if my idea is a problem with my current situation. His growly, “You’ll wait for an agent to escort you,” takes some of the joy out of my intended trek.

Still, I wait until I spy Al and another member of the Hudson team before making my way between my house and his on foot. After giving them both a quick chin jerk in their car, I set off.

Along the way, I admire the garden one of my neighbors put in, laugh at a few kids having a water gun fight, wave at a familiar delivery person. It hits low and hard in my gut, the fact the world is still turning even after the devastation that rocked me earlier in the year.

And amid the turmoil trying to drown me.

The world’s still going round and round. I just have to figure out a way to stop my emotions from careening out of control.

Instead of miring myself in negativity, I pull up the antics Jon, Kalie, Grace, and I got into this weekend. A wicked smile breaks across my face instead of guilt tearing like knives through my heart.

Suddenly, something Alice said slams into me, causing my footsteps to falter. “Laura, life is often a series of unfortunate realities. Doing what you do, you have to accept that. If you don’t fight against your present, if you accept things happen for a reason, you’ll heal faster, so you’re better prepared for your future.”

I murmur, “Maybe I need to stop asking why and be grateful that I’m still here.” Even as the words escape my lips, something uncoils inside me that’s been wound up since the day of the shooting.

Ringing the doorbell, I take a step back and note the differences between the home I live in with my cousins and this one. Briefly, I wonder if Liam renovated before he and Bailey moved in or after. “Lord knows when we toured it, it was a hot mess,” I mutter.

Right before my breath and any form of thought is swept from my body.

In the jeans and T-shirt he sported last week, Liam Payne stirred my senses. Today, dressed much like he was the first time we met in a Tom Ford suit, coordinating tie, and crisp white dress shirt, he makes my tongue want to flop out like cartoons of old. That is if I can pull it off the roof of my mouth to reply to his, “Good morning, Laura. Come on in.”

He holds open the storm door, and as I pass by, I get a whiff of his cologne. Christ, did he spray on L’Eau de Lick Me? I recall what Kalie said over the weekend about meeting him and wonder how in the hell my over-sexed cousin didn’t climb him like a tree. Oh, that’s right. Her father was standing right there and Liam was likely involved with Bailey’s mother, I think, amused. A bubble of mirth escapes my lips.

He quirks a brow. “Something funny?”

I scan the room for something to redirect my attention to. Fortunately, I spy the collage of photos of him and Bailey and joke, “I hope you covered the holes in the wall behind those.”

I realize my tactical error when Liam places his hands on his hips and it stretches his perfectly tailored suit across his broad chest. “Now, Dr. Lockwood, how did you know there used to be holes in the wall near the stairwell?” He shuts the door after me, locking me in and closing the Hudson agent out.

“I could give you some song and dance about magic.” I don’t realize it, but my lips curve upward.

His eyes flare before they fixate on my lips. Licking them nervously, Liam’s jaw squares a bit before he drags his gaze away. Propping his shoulder against the door, he crosses his legs at the ankle. There are some models who pay money to gain the kind of aplomb Liam Payne just has. I should know—one of my cousins told me. He agrees, drawing my attention from his body and back to his mouth. “You could.”

“The reality is this place was on our short list of homes to buy.”

His jaw drops in a way I really wish I could unsee since I now have a very delicious view of the inside of his mouth and the tip of his tongue. My stomach quivers at how it darts out and glides against his full lower lip. “You’ve got to be kidding. Were you the one I was bidding against?”

“No. Though I find it interesting that you ended up in a bidding war.”

“Where do you live now?”

I point past his west wall. “About a six-minute walk that way.”

“What made you decide not to bid on the house?”

“We didn’t have the time to renovate.”

“We?”

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